Up Before Adhan

Well, it seems that my internal clock is being a little stubborn in resetting itself from GMT-4 to GMT+6. Despite my attempts to keep to a Bangladeshi schedule of sleeping-waking-eating, I again found myself awake well before the 4 a.m. adhan (the Muslim call to prayer). After trying to force my eyes shut a little longer, so that they wouldn't threaten to close during lunch today (midnight back in Maine), I have finally given up and decided to write a bit.

In case you're wondering about my exact whereabouts in Bangladesh, I'm currently in the city of Dhaka, the capital in the center of the map above. On Saturday, I'll fly to my new home - Chittagong city in Chittagong province (seaport in the southeast). I look forward to being able to add photos when I'm finally settled and unpacked.

I've much to be grateful for in this first week spent in Dhaka. First - the Jennings family. Auntie Diane picked me up last Sunday in the midst of a very busy week in their lives. I hadn't given her or Uncle James any sort of schedule of what I'd be doing in Dhaka (and I actually had no plans at all) or how long I'd actually need to occupy a bed here. Yet I've been cared for with the utmost hospitality, and have had the adjustment to new things made so easy. Food is certainly no new adjustment - I'm happy as a clam to be back in a routine of moori (puffed rice) for breakfast and dal and roti for lunch. The other day I sat in the kitchen with Ati and practiced my Bangla by asking her to teach me to make her perfect thin chapati.

I've been able to plug away at studying my Bangla language book every morning, but I'm itching for opportunities to use it. The book that I'm using teaches writing first, so some of the early phrases that stuck in my mind were ones that only employed the few letters I'd learned when I was starting out. One of those phrases was, "amta shundor kintu tok" - "The mango is beautiful but sour." Why is it always the awkward, useless phrases that stick? Well, yesterday, I had the chance to go through the bazaar with Diane, and when she found out I hadn't had any mangoes yet, she insisted on getting some for me. At the first stall where we stopped, the mangoes were hard and unripe... indeed they were a beautiful green, but most likely quite sour. I chuckled inwardly as I found myself saying "amta tok, na?" I'm glad I chose not to comment on the aesthetic qualities of the fruit. That may have seemed strange.

One memory of my time in Dhaka that is cemented in my mind, and was such a privilege to experience (though much too brief), was my visit to CUP (Children's Uplift Program) run by Beth Jennings, Auntie Di's daughter. CUP meets needs of homeless children and mothers with programs that the world (and especially this country) desperately needs more of. The small dedicated team are working on the ground in the very literal sense. Young children, teenage girls, and homeless pregnant mothers are undoubtedly the most vulnerable population on the streets of Dhaka. Besides providing healthcare and education, CUP aims to protect these marginalized ones from the all-too common fate of sex trafficking and begging, and they do so by creating alternative employment for the mothers. Whether the women and children are just stopping by the CUP flat to rest and wash, or are busily engaged in stitching a beautiful quilt from old saris, they meet a community they can trust, a rare phenomenon on these streets. It may not be clean - extreme poverty rarely is - but it is hopeful and joyous to see transformation. Perhaps I could say it's sour, but beautiful.